


The Unspoken Thruth

by Luisa1804



Series: Sherlock One-Shots [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Brother Mycroft, Caring Mycroft, Evil Mary, Evil Mary Morstan, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mycroft-centric, POV Mycroft Holmes, Poor John, Post-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Post-Reichenbach, Sad, Sad John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:31:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luisa1804/pseuds/Luisa1804
Summary: 5 Times Mycroft had to deny that Sherlock was still alive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Prompt at Kink Meme: "5 Times Mycroft had to deny that Sherlock was still alive."
> 
> I'm not a narrative English speaker and apologise for mistakes! Please look at the notes in the end. And I also apologise if Mycroft seems a little bit out of Character - but I don't him to be just the "Ice Man" ;)

**1\. John Watson**

It's been two weeks since Sherlock threw himself off the rooftop of the Sankt Barts Hospital. Two weeks since his little brother was officially declared dead from Molly Hooper. Mycroft has the luck to know that it's all been a fraud; he knows that Sherlock is alive and well, maybe a little bit shaken even though he would never admit it. He has the luck to have another full month with his little brother close, before Sherlock has to go on the mission to disable Moriartys network. They both don't know how long that's going to take. Could be months, could be years.

All Mycroft knows for sure right now is that Sherlock is alive and hiding (sulking) in the sitting room next to his office. He isn't expecting anyone important (or likable) enough today to warrant an audience in his sitting room - they are all unimportant enough that they have to deal with the uncomfortable chair in front of his office desk.

Sherlock insisted to come along today; said he couldn't deal to stare at the walls of Mycrofts guestroom one minute longer. Insisted on a change of environment as far as it was possible for an official dead man. Mycroft knows that it all comes down to one thing: Sherlock misses 221B Baker Street and John Watson.

And Mycroft just has to take a fleeting look at the CCTV records of 221B and Doctor Watson to know how incredibly lucky he is to deal with Sherlocks demands and tantrums at all.

"Mr. Holmes?" , Anthea steps into his office, eyes as ever on her mobile. "Doctor Watson."

Mycroft hears a little crash from behind him where the door to his sitting room is located. He has to admit to feel the same - he did not expect John Watson to show up here and seek his presence. They parted on extraordinary bad terms, after all.

He nods to Anthea and waits till she has disappeared again to address the empty room. The doors to his personal rooms are very thin, after all, so he may hear all conversations that may take place in here. For the first time he thinks he may come to regret this.

"Stay where you are, Sherlock", he says. "No matter what Doctor Watsons business is - I'll handle it."

Sherlock doesn't answer, but Mycroft is confident that Sherlock knows how important for their mission it is that all people think him dead. How important for John Watsons survival it may be.

As soon as John sets the first step into his office Mycroft can tell that the man has had a few drinks today, but not enough to make him drunk, not yet. The grief is written into every line of his body. He resists the urge to wince and can't help but think that this is going to be a conversation that he would like to spare Sherlock. 

"Doctor Watson" , he says and nods to the chair in front of his desk. It's a pity - John Watson is one of the few people Mycroft would have had invited into his sitting room.

"How may I help you?"

John ignores the chair and stands in the middle of his office, staring at him. "Where is he?"

"I beg you pardon? Where is who?"

"Sherlock."

Mycroft closes his eyes for a moment - less than a second - and really whishes Sherlock would have stayed home today. He can imagine him - standing directly in front of the door, as close as he can get to John Watson, listing to every word and commiting it to memory.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"He's still alive, isn't he?", Johns tone is harsh and cold, but Mycroft can easily see and hear the desperation beneath it. He knows Sherlock can too. Because John Watson does not really believe what he says; he wants to, wants to believe in Sherlock Holmes and never doubt him, stay loyal - but he can't shake what he saw out of his mind. Sherlock falling, Sherlocks blood on the sidewalk, a lifeless body.

"No, Doctor Watson. Sherlock is dead" , he tries to keep his voice as gentle as he can manage but John still flinches away as if Mycroft struck him.

John says nothing.

"My brother is dead and I know how hard -"

"Really? You don't look like it." It would a be harsh - would be a downright cruel - thing to say to anyone else than Mycroft. To say to someone who really lost his little brother.

"I do believe it is said that my emotional complexity does not reach as far as grieving in front of other people."

A few moments of silence. Mycroft feels compelt to break it.

"What makes you think he survived?" Johns eyes sharpen and he stares at Mycroft as if that alone would tell him if there is more to that question than curiosity. 

Mycroft doesn't expect a logical reasoning of facts John might have gathered to prove Sherlocks survival. He doesn't think that there is much to find even if John would look at the situation without being clouded by sentiment. They have been thorough.

He doesn't get anything remotely logical. "He can't be dead." Something painful crosses his face. " He can't just -"

"Doctor Watson -"

John interrupts him again. "His funeral is Tuesday."

"I know."

"Will you be there? ", John says it as a challenge, a desperate callenge, because he knows that Mycroft would not waste time on attending a fake funeral for a man who is not really dead. And he hadn't planned to, but looking at John Watson standing in front of him, grief written in every line of his body -

"Yes, I will."

Johns eyes widen for a moment before a closes them in pain. "Doctor Watson -"  
"Did you know I talked to him? On the roof?"

"Yes", Mycroft answers, needing half a second to progress the sudden change in conversation. "We found his phone."

John nods. "He called me. His _letter_."

Mycroft nods again, strangely lost in this emotional conversation about his officially dead brother while said brother is listening in. He doesn't even want to imagine what Sherlock might look like right now.

John changes trackes again. "Do you know what the last thing is I said to him? Face to face?"

"No." And he doesn't.

"I called him a machine. Those will always be the last words I said to him."

Mycroft is at loss. Comforting grieving people has never been his strongest suit. 

"My therapist keeps on saying that one shouldn't blame themselves for the suicide of other people."

Mycroft finds it hard to breathe for a moment. He's sure he heard Sherlock behind the door, but John doesn't even glance in the right direction.

"She is quite right", Mycroft says at last. "You are not at all to blame."

John snorts. "I didn't come here for you to reassure me, Mycroft."

Mycroft shifts in his chair. "Then why are you here, John? How can I be of help?"  
John steps closer till the desk is the only thing separating them. Up close he looks even worse - he hasn't been eating or sleeping, clearly, and today hasn't been the first time for him to turn to alcohol.

"Look at me - look me in the eye and tell me he's dead. Tell me he's dead and let me stop _hoping_ and let me stop finding reason after reason why he could have been clever enough to survive a jump from the rooftop of Sankt Barts."

Mycroft holds Johns eyes and delebrity doesn't think about how much he has come to respect this man, how much he actually owes him for taking care of his little brother and saving his life countless times - tries to ignore how hard this is even for him. Doesn't think about how John and Sherlock feel right now.

"Sherlock Holmes is dead. He died after jumping from the rooftop of the Sankt Barts Hospital." He adds the next part without thinking about it, without analysing why he feels the need to say it. "And it was not your fault, John. You are not to blame for Sherlocks death."

John turns around, but not before Mycroft can see how much pain his words have inflicted. He walkes to the door and Mycroft watches him go without a word.

"See you Tuesday." His voice is bare of emotion and before Mycroft can respond the door falls shut behind him.

A few seconds of utter silence - than a loud crash from the sitting room. Mycroft closes his eyes.

"I'm sorry, brother." Another loud crash tunes his words out.

 

**2\. Mrs. Hudson**

Baker Street has never been one of Mycrofts favorite places, but without his brother here it's even worse. But this was one of the things he promised Sherlock to do so it would be easier for him to leave London behind. 

He's always been fond of his landlady, but with John Watsons influence they have nearly build a strange mother-son relationship.

The teacups click together as Mrs Hudson puts them on the table in front of him. He really hadn't meant to stay for tea, but the old lady had left him no choice if he didn't want to be rude. At least, he comforts himself, at least John Watson is not home and will not be for quite some time. 

"It's always such a mess here", Mrs Hudson tells him while fluttering about, "Less now, of course with Sherlock -"

She freezes abruptly. 

"Mrs Hudson" , he says, partly to come to business, partly to relieve the uncomfortable tension. "My brother left a _will_ behind, of sorts, to be realized by me."

Mrs Hudson turns around, at last, and sits down at the table, opposite of him. It's the first time she looks directly at him and while he could see the grief she is going through before, the deep tearstrains on her cheeks nearly surprise him. It's strange, really, how many people are honestly grieving for his brother. There were times were no one would have cared apart from him.

"A will?"

"Yes, if I may say so. 221B Baker Street is to be paid, fully, by me. Doctor Watson may continue to live here without payment, if he wishes so, or clear the details for the payment with me. "

"Oh", Mrs Hudson looks faintly uncomfortable. "John wishes to move out. Too many memories, he said. He can hardly bear it."

Mycroft decides that that piece of information will not reach his brother till it has to. "Then I will pay the full rent, of course." He lets his tone soften. "My brother wished for 221B to remain as it is. "

Mrs Hudsons fingers start fluttering again. "Good", she says and sounds relieved. "I couldn't have imagined anyone else than Sherlock and John living here, but, of course the money ... I was so sad, to be honest, when John told me he would move out. I understand, of course, it is hard to see all of Sherlocks things and knowing he will not come back ... But to lose both of them -"

"You will receive monthly payments and you will keep 221B as it is now - as a remembrance for my brother, if you want", Mycroft tells her, "And if you should ever find yourself in trouble, I will gladly be of help."

Mrs Hudson nods eagerly, relieved. Mycroft waits a few moments more, before reaching for his umbrella, standing up and straightening his suit. 

"I will take my leave now."

He comes as far as the door to 221B before Mrs Hudson calls after him. She stands in the entrance to her own rooms, small and fidgeting.

"Is he - did Sherlock really die?" , she asks it without looking at him, uncomfortable and without any real hope.

"Yes", he says calmly. "Sherlock is dead."

She nods and presses a hand to her face. There are new tears in her eyes but she manages to smile briefly, still without looking at him.

"Yes, of course. I just had to ask, you know - he was Sherlock, after all." She turns around and disappears into the flat.

Mycroft needs a few seconds before he steps out, onto the street. 

 

**3\. Greg Lestrade**

Mycroft and Greg Lestrade do not even have something one can call a fleeting acquaintance. Mycroft does have all of Greg's personal information, everything about his past and possible pressure points, as he has for everyone that spends much time around his little brother.

Greg Lestrade does also have one of his phone numbers so the Detective may contact him if the need should arise. Greg obtained the privilege the first time he found his brother in a alleyway on one of his cocaine highs. 

So it does come as a surprise when a month after Sherlocks jump and a few days after Sherlock left without a word to take out Moriartys network, one of his phones ring and the name "Lestrade" shows on the display.

Lestrade starts speaking as soon as Mycroft picks up. "Listen, I know we don't know each other and you're an important man and whatnot, but - Sherlock was my friend, he was, no matter what Sherlock thought about that." A short break, but Mycroft doesn't say anything. He can tell that Greg is already regretting calling him but he can also tell that he will not back down now that he did. 

"Listen, it's just that Anderson drives me wild with his theories about how Sherlock could have survived - it's the guilt speaking, I know that - but the fact remains that he was Sherlock bloody Holmes and if there is a person capable of finding a way to survive this bloody jump it would have been him -"

Another pause and Mycroft closes his eyes. "So - is Sherlock dead or is he not?" Greg's voice is rough and tense.

"Yes", Mycroft says at last, "My brother is dead."

Greg hangs up without another word. 

Mycroft sighs and wishes not for the first time that Sherlock would not have made so many friends over the last year, so many people hurt because of this stunt - or that, at least, he wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath.

 

**4\. John Watson II**

It's been a year since he has had to attend the funeral for a brother not really dead, 11 months since Sherlock left his mansion to go after Moriartys network, 4 months since he last heard from him.

He doesn't know why he came here. Maybe nostalgia, maybe because it feels strangely appropriate, maybe because he knows who he would meet here.

As it is he stands here on the one year anniversary for a fake funeral in front of a black gravestone with the name of his brother engraved on it, next to John Watson holding onto his umbrella allowing himself for a moment to imagine how the man next to him may feel, tries to imagine to believe Sherlock dead.

He barely can repress a shiver. 

John says nothing, he just keeps staring at the black stone, back straight, hands clenched. 

But it takes just a few moments before John sighs and relaxes. "You are still following me."

"Pardon?"

John sighs again. "I do notice the CCTV cameras following me, you know. Sherlock thought me to keep an eye on that."

"Ah", Mycroft says noncommittal and thinks on the file he keeps on John Watson and all the important information he keeps for when Sherlock comes back and wants a full report on John's life without him.

"Why?", John asks simply.

"You were important to my brother", Mycroft says just as simply.

John shifts uncomfortably. "That's a bit sentimental for you, isn't it?" 

"For me, yes. For him, not at all, as it seems."

John's head flies around to stare at him. "What?" , he asks tense, something akin to hope in his voice. Mycroft nearly winces.

"I owed him", he says, "and he left a few chores for me to fulfill. To support Mrs Hudson, Molly Hooper and Gregory Lestrade, to make sure 221B stays available for you, to give Gregory a subtle helping hand in serious murders and - to keep an eye out of you, make sure you are save and things alike."

John stares a few moments more, before he blinks and turns away. "I had wondered why Mrs Hudson had not cleared out 221B", he says then.

"John", he says at last, "Not even my brother could have survived a fall just as this. It's impossible, even for him."

John doesn't move a single muscle for a tense moment, before breathing out audibly. "I am aware."

Mycroft hoped so, because no matter how much pain Sherlocks death may cause John Watson, John's death would have much more serious consequences as soon as Sherlock would find out. And while Sherlock did make huge progress in disabling Moriartys networks, there were still too many potential hostile eyes on Watson.

He _needed_ to believe Sherlock dead. Mycroft knew that it wouldn't make things easier for John or for Sherlock in the end. It wasn't even easy for him, right now, with much less emotional attachment.

He and John stood a long time together, in silence, staring at a black gravestone.

 

**5\. "Mary Morstan"**

As soon as it came apparent that Mary Morstans relationship with John Watson would not end as soon as it had begun as it was typical for John's relationships Mycroft had a car send to pick Mrs Morstan up and have a little _chat_ with her.

He was perfectly aware that she had messed with her files and personal history, little inconsistencies that would escape anyone else who would just take a fleeting look at her dates.

He was unsure as of yet why these inconsistencies existed and what Mary Morstan was trying to hide and he preferred to take a closer look at her himself. He knew that John would not appreciate a visit from him so he could deliver suspicious information about his girlfriend. 

Sherlock was nearly done with his mission and due to arrive back in London in the next 2 months and the likelihood that he would come to meet her ascends every day. Best to be safe and make sure she would not propose a serious threat to his brother or Doctor Watson.

The black car stopped a few metres in front of him and the one door opened. He choose another old warehouse for this meeting, not the same as the one in which he first met John Watson, but one in similar style. The woman leaving the car looked nothing short of ordinary and not scared or nervous at all.

On the contrary - she smiled when she saw him, not a particularly friendly smile, more as if she found something deeply amusing. 

"You are Mycroft, yes?" , she asked and stopped a few feet in front of him. "Mycroft Holmes? Sherlock's brother? "

"Yes", he answered her calmly, purposely uninterested. "I do not believe we have met before, Mrs. Morstan."

"No, John told me about you of course. "

"Of course" , he said smoothly but really wished John had not done that. People reacted more honest if they thought they might be in danger or about to be kidnapped or harmed by an unknown person.

"Why am I here?" , Mary asked, still smiling. 

"I do have personal interest in John Watsons life and safety", he says and watches her every move. She betrays nothing - nothing suspicious, nothing more than an ordinary life, nothing that would explain why she would lie about her past. 

"Ah, yes, John said. Because Sherlock asked you to before his death. "

Mycroft doesn't like her. She talks about his brother as if she knew him which he knows she couldn't have, talks about John as if she ... owns him, belittles him, and he knows she hides something, even if he can't tell what. 

"Precisely" , he says and studies her. "May I ask why that amuses you?"

"He's not dead, is he? ", she asks seriously and Mycroft abruptly feels like she knows more than she should have been able to know. 

"Of course he's dead", he answers her offhandly as if she had asked about the weather.

Mary nods but can't seem to wipe that amused smile of her face. "I'm asking for John, of course. He's still so devastated about Sherlocks death and with all the stories he tells -"

"Oh, yes, I see. But I can assure you that my brother is, indeed, dead ", Mycroft says and believes not a single word out of her mouth. She knows something about Sherlock that she is not supposed to know, he's sure of that. She has been in London for the past 5 years and not left the town for the past 2, so she couldn't have met Sherlock after his death. Maybe she has contacts with people from Moriartys network? In those ranks are rumours about Sherlock surviving and being responsible for the collapse of their network. If she is involved with Moriarty ...

"Pity", she says and Mycroft can hear resentment for his brother in her voice. That in and of itself is neither unusual nor a cause of concern, but with everything else that seems wrong with her, just makes him feel more cautious. And he doesn't think that she could talk like that about Sherlock in front of John and manage to stay in his life. So she pretends in front of him - but about how much?

"But I don't think I'm a risk for John life or safety, as you put it", she says and smiles even more. "We are very happy together."

"Of course", Mycroft says and turns away. There is nothing more he can find out about her by talking. He has to check possible connections to Moriarty and his network, other possible sources where she could have heard about Sherlock surviving, dig a little deeper into her past. "I just fulfil my duty to my deceased brother, you see."

"Of course", she says behind him, but he doesn't turn around, his interest in talking to her long lost. After a few steps he can hear her turn around and walk back to the car.

He has work to do and to prepare for a brother about to come back from the death.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to make a little One-Shot collection for the Sherlock fandom. I do have a few prompts I'm interested in writing, but I would love to hear a few prompts from you if there is anything specific you would like me to write! So - I'm open for suggestions!


End file.
